


Fantasy

by Zhie



Series: Freedom! [3]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bath Sex, Bubble Bath, Bunniverse, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-20 21:04:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10670730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: (One of the B-sides) After a long and disappointing day at the library, Glorfindel and Fingon attempt to make it a better night for Erestor.





	1. I Don't Know Your Intentions

**Author's Note:**

> This was started long before the Freedom! series became a thing, but it is going to fit in here quite nicely, in terms of the time line. Hankets were something that Nimlock and I discussed, and fic began to happen. Then other things happened. Then I got back to this. While this half does not merit the rating, trust me, the second half does.
> 
> Also - while it, like so many fics, is a WIP, here is the in-progress new listing of Bunniverse. It's very sloppy, things are missing, and it's in flux, but this will be the best place going forward to find the listing of the order. [Click here for fluff, angst, purple bunnies, and elves.](https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1R7e1nky65lxhvfIabDX7n_TbknuhMH0m4eero6A-GC0/edit?usp=sharing)

“You look like you had a rough day.”

Fingon was sitting cross-legged on the couch, rubbing his face. He had not heard Glorfindel enter the house. Fingon waited until Glorfindel joined him before he answered. “I arrived today to find a corner of the mural in the back of the reference section was detached and drooping. I decided I was going to fix it on my own, and I ended up being attacked by it when an entire panel came loose.”

“Oh. That sounds bad.” Glorfindel reached out and rubbed Fingon’s arm. “Did you get injured?”

“Just my pride. And a small nick on my finger. The mural itself will need further repair.” Fingon stretched his arms above his head as Glorfindel pulled his hand away. “It gets better. I asked the scribes to organize some of the supplies while I was gone.”

“And… they forgot?” guessed Glorfindel.

“Oh, no. They did it. But they could not find everything, so they went into my office and found the other things.” Fingon leaned his head back. “Except, I bring my own supplies, so I had to go around and find my things in what was akin to a really embarrassing scavenger hunt.”

“Did Erestor at least help you?” Glorfindel asked. He was getting up from the couch - but only momentarily. He sat back down behind Fingon so that he was able to knead the tension out of slightly slumped shoulders which typically exhibited exemplary posture.

“Erestor had his own problems. His protege tried to be helpful and pulled all of the books on a list that Erestor had compiled before we took leave,” Fingon explained. For the past month, Fingon and Erestor, as well as most of the regular members of staff at the Alalminorë Parindo, had taken leave before the beginning of the upcoming term. This meant leaving the underlings - apprentices, scribes, junior scholars and the like - to carry on the daily tasks and ready the school. While Erestor had been a guest lecturer at the school for hundreds of years, this was only his third full year as regular staff, and the second for Fingon. “He had seven entirely full carts of books - some of them two volumes deep on both sides. He only looked at the call numbers, not the second line, so he was pulling anything in that section instead of the exact book. They were only somewhat in order, and Erestor needed to go through all of them and then have the pages put them back - except we could only find one of the pages, so the poor boy had to put everything away on his own.” He leaned back and hummed his appreciation of Glorfindel’s ministrations. “The budget you helped me submit was fine. It came back perfect. It was the one saving grace of the day.”

“I am glad something went right for you.” Glorfindel settled his hand on the back of Fingon’s neck and repeatedly curled his fingers. “How did the new shelving look?”

“I am going to let Erestor tell you about that when he gets in, because I am finally relaxing and it will just have me on edge again to tell you.” 

Glorfindel nodded, and leaned down to kiss the back of Fingon’s neck a few times. It had become one of his favorite ways to show affection over the last few weeks, for Fingon insisted upon tidiness and kept the back of his neck smooth by shaving it regularly. Glorfindel received a complimentary purr for his efforts, after which his hands returned to massaging Fingon’s shoulders. “Speaking of… please tell me he is not still at the library.”

“No. Probably best I was selected to run the library over him. We certainly would still be there if he had his way. As it was, most of us left nearly an hour past the time I had set, but we could not have everything in disarray.” Fingon stretched his legs out and used his feet to roll his socks off and onto the floor. “Erestor wanted to take a ride by himself, but he promised he would be back soon. I think he needs to curse his apprentice in private, lest he make good on threats shared with me when we left.”

“Just so long as he does not ride back to the library,” Glorfindel said.

“No. Solved that problem early,” replied Fingon slyly. “One needs a key to get in.”

“You never gave him a key?” There was laughter in Glorfindel’s voice.

“We always arrive at work together, so only one of us needs a key. We incur a cost for each key made, and it seemed the money was better spent on another book or two.” Fingon was always practical. “And then, there is no way - hopefully - for him to skulk around there at midnight. Besides, he has a library here to skulk in.” While still a work in progress, the renovations at the Cottage of Lost Play were shuffling along. Initially, the library was scheduled to be redone much later, but with two librarians in the house, it was only a matter of time before the need to organize the volumes took precedence over all else.

“I am sure if he told you he will be back soon that he truly will.” Glorfindel dug his fingers into muscles lower in Fingon’s back, hoping to ease away the rest of his tension. “I made stew for supper, and the bread is still cooling, so nothing is going to spoil if he is a little later than he intends to be.”

Fingon yawned, an unintentional reply, and lifted his arms up. “Thank you. And thank you for this - I guess I was more stressed than I thought I was.” He moved his neck from one side to the other until a small cracking noise was heard by both of them, and then repositioned himself so that he was facing Glorfindel.. “And how was your day? I feel terrible that we always leave you here by yourself - I really wish I could find something for you to do at the school.”

Glorfindel smiled. “I actually enjoy the solitude sometimes. It lets me focus on my painting.” He lifted up his hands to show the smudges of colors from fingers to wrists that he had not yet removed. “It was not too windy, so I set up in the yard for a while, and then I came back in here and started supper after I had lunch. Oh, and I read two chapters of the book you brought me, because I realized when the two of you returned to your duties that I have had it for over a month and I barely touched it.”

“It is fortunate for you then that I personally know both the Chief Librarian, and the Master of Acquisitions. I am sure one of them can secure an extension for you.” Fingon yawned again, excused himself, and then said, “I suppose the solitude keeps you from having too much anxiety here, in comparison to what goes on for Erestor and I at the school.”

Glorfindel shrugged. “I have my own trials. I came around the shed earlier and I almost walked into a wasp nest. Speaking of which, there is a wasp nest on the corner of the shed.”

“Lovely. I am convinced that wasps are the spawn of mosquitos and near-sighted bees.”

“Probably not, because, either Morgoth or science,” Glorfindel gently countered. “There is also a squirrel I caught harvesting the blackberries--”

“Probably the same one that was trying to pull plums off the trees.”

“Same one that keeps stealing the chicken feed, no doubt. Oh, that was another thing. We are missing two chickens,” Glorfindel informed Fingon, and Fingon groaned. “I hope they just wandered, because I searched and did not find feathers, but…”

“It might be too late in the year to try to replace the chickens.”

“I know. I wanted to make a nice dessert to go with supper, but most of the things I have ingredients for require eggs, and I am a little concerned now that we will not have enough if I use them for frivolous things like that.”

“Hmm. You do have your share of stressful things here, then,” realized Fingon. “I guess you just handle stress better than Erestor and I.”

“Everyone handles stress better than Erestor,” answered Glorfindel almost immediately.

“He…” Fingon paused. “He has ways to cope.” There was silence for a moment, and then Fingon admitted, “Not always the best ways to cope, but…”

“One night when he was upset about what one of the children we adopted did, he went out and destroyed the remnants of the late autumn crops, fought me in hand to hand combat, and then started to attack a tree, which was the final straw for me.”

Fingon looked concerned. “He attacked you?”

Glorfindel paused in the retelling. “I think I might have encouraged him to do so. He was enraged and…” Glorfindel glanced to the door, perhaps making certain it was not about to open. All the same, he lowered his voice. “Do not worry about me. If I had to, I could overpower him.”

“This is such a strange conversation,” said Fingon. “I have never before wondered whether or not I could best a lover in hand to hand combat.”

“Erestor and I have a really strange relationship,” Glorfindel decided.

“So… how do you cope with your stress?”

Glorfindel smiled sheepishly. “Mostly, Erestor.”

“Hair of the dog, eh?” 

“Most of the time, we did not have stress at the same time. When he is calm, he is very calm.” Glorfindel ran a finger along one of Fingon’s feet, and then without asking, moved it into his lap to continue his work. “Except when I was a child, and for a few years after Elrond left Middle-earth, I have almost always been wherever Erestor is, or at least nearby.” Glorfindel smiled to himself as he massaged Fingon’s feet. “Storms frighten me, even now, even here. Ever since Gondolin. In Rivendell, Erestor would always stay up with me or let me sleep in his bed.”

“These are the sort of anecdotes I love to hear from the two of you,” admitted Fingon. “So what happened when Elrond came here? I thought that you and Erestor stayed in Imladris until you both decided to sail.”

“Not exactly. We both left Imladris for a while.” Glorfindel rubbed each one of Fingon’s toes gently between his fingers before he revealed the truth. “We were both fired.”

“What? Elrond fired you?”

“Oh, no! No, not Elrond. When his sons took over--”

“The sons you helped raise fired you.” Fingon spat out the words, and Glorfindel nodded in confirmation. “Those ungrateful brats! Why would they do that?”

Glorfindel sighed. “They had those they wanted in our positions instead. Melpomaen and Lindir. Which, honestly, Lindir was a pacifist and Melpomaen sort of knew how to fire an arrow, but he snapped the bowstring in his face so many times during training that we finally told him to stop so he would not hurt himself. It was really hard, because they did not tell us. We just found out when we realized one day that there were council meetings neither of us were invited to. Shortly after, Erestor confronted Elrohir - Elladan managed to keep himself out of Erestor’s path and avoided his wrath. Elrohir admitted that they had appointed Melpomaen and Lindir in our places. In their defense, I was supposed to sail West, but I changed my mind. With Erestor, though… he helped build Imladris. He had no plans to leave at that time. It was really hard. Melpomaen was tasked to tell him, but Melpomaen really has a sweet personality. He decided he would just continue to let Erestor run the library, and not inform him of the council meetings.”

“Damn. So, what did Erestor do? And what did you do?” Fingon reached out and stalled Glorfindel’s hands, holding them, giving them a comforting squeeze.

“Erestor had retained citizenship in Greenwood. He pretended at one point that he renounced it, but he never did. He packed his things and invited me to join him. But…” Glorfindel shook his head. “I was pretty raw at that point. Gildor has just left, and I stayed. Erestor… well, the cracks were there. He was close, especially after the whole thing with Gildor… but I was angry with him,” said Glorfindel, and he looked away. “He and Gildor fought - over me, I think, in a way - and then they got drunk, and then they were kissing, and then they acted like things were fine, and Gildor left, and… nothing. Erestor put his mask back on. It just really got to me. That, and he lied to me about Greenwood.”

“Sweety. I am so sorry.” Fingon lifted Glorfindel’s hands and kissed them before he leaned in and nuzzled his cheek. “You know I love him, too, but he is an asshole sometimes, and I have informed him of that on a few occasions - usually without using the word asshole. I also recognize that he was, and still is, suffering from some very deeply embedded mental trauma, both from everything that happened in Valinor when his parents tried to ‘fix’ him, and from whatever happened when he was captured after Gondolin’s fall.”

“I know. I try not to be too hard on him.”

“At the same time, you have feelings and needs, too.”

Glorfindel finally looked back to Fingon. “That was why I did not follow him. I went to Gondor instead. I think it was good, for both of us. He wrote to me; a letter every day. I wrote back, but not nearly as frequently. I helped Arwen with the children, and I spent time in Gondor being ‘the elf’, not THE elf, if that makes any sense whatsoever.”

“So, not the slayer of monsters, but just that fellow with the pointy ears and great sense of fashion.”

Glorfindel grinned. “Right.” He glanced to the window and frowned. “I wonder where Erestor is, actually. It is getting dark out there.”

“He should be here soon,” assumed Fingon. “So, when you were in Gondor, did you find yourself with less stress to deal with, or were you overwhelmed when it did happen since you did not have Erestor around?”

“The first two months I kept busy, so while I missed Erestor, it was more like going on a patrol, but having a nice bed to sleep in at night,” recounted Glorfindel. “Then came the first thunderstorm, and I could not sleep. And the storms continued, all through the next day, and into the second night. I was so tired, but the rumbling and the crashing and the rain against the windows kept me from rest. Then, in the midst of it all, fatigued and not thinking straight, I tried to drown out the noise. Under the blanket, pillow over my head - neither good, breathing was hard, it just made things worse. Then, I had a more ridiculous notion - and I just did this…” He took a fistful of his own hair, quite short now compared to how it would have been in Gondor, and pressed each handful against his ears. “And I found out that the noise from all of the hairs sliding against each other, close to my ears, drowned out the sounds of the storms.”

“Did it help?”

Glorfindel nodded and let go of his hair. “I managed to fall asleep. So I just… I kind of burrow into my hair when I am alone,” he explained. 

“Huh. Well you certainly had enough to do that.”

“That was when I finally started to grow it long - really long - again. I kept it about waist-length most of the time I spent in Imladris. It was just safer that way. By the time I came back again, it would drag on the floor if I did not put up partially up. Now, well, you know, usually knees to feet, somewhere in there. Although, I am really getting used to it being like this,” he said as he twirled a strand that curled not much further than his chin.

“It is very soft and fluffy. I can see how that could be comforting.”

Glorfindel nodded, though his cheeks were a little flushed. 

“Hair blanket,” Fingon continued.

“Sure,” said Glorfindel.

“It was a hanket,” said Fingon.

“No. Not better.”

“What is not better?” Erestor had opted to come in through the back door, and now as he entered the room only caught the very end of the conversation.

“A hanket,” said Fingon, though in Quenya what he had said was ‘finoalle’, and to Erestor he translated what he thought he heard into something quite different.

Erestor crossed his arms and looked confused. “Long-haired, exiled Noldor?” he guessed.

“No,” said Fingon, “though, I offer myself as one of the long-haired, exiled Noldor who make a great blanket. Well, previously long-haired. Two out of three.”

“Blankets?” parroted Erestor, still confused.

“Shhh… he does not know,” hissed Glorfindel at Fingon, and then Glorfindel looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Supper is ready.”

“Does not know what?” insisted Erestor. “Look, I had a really terrible day. My apprentice emptied half of the history section and it all had to be put back, and the shelving was delayed and will not be ready until the following term. On top of that, Pitambë threw a shoe and I had to take care of that before I could come in.”

“Sounds like someone could use a hanket,” mumbled Fingon as he stood up from the couch and extended a hand to Glorfindel.

Glorfindel shushed Fingon again as he was helped up, and then approached Erestor. “I have supper ready, and while we are eating, I can heat water for a nice, warm bath.”

“And we can use the big tub,” suggested Fingon with a twinkle in his eyes.

Erestor looked from one to the other. It seemed discovering what a hanket was could wait. “What kind of stew is it?” he asked as he made his way to the kitchen. 

“Mostly carrot, but I found some late peas and added leek and potato and a few mushrooms,” said Glorfindel.

“And I want bubbles in the bath,” called out Erestor, in case Fingon was still in the other room, which he was not.

“You can have all the bubbles you like,” answered Fingon from only a few paces away.


	2. I'm In the Hands of Fate

“I guess when you said ‘we’ I did not envision all three of we at the same time,” said Erestor.

“Why do you think I suggested the big tub?” countered Fingon.

After supper, as promised, Glorfindel filled the large bathing tub with warm water and added enough soap to froth up the top. He and Fingon climbed in before Erestor returned with towels, and now the eldest stood and looked down at the others with a frown. “We should get a triangle shaped tub. There is hardly any room for me with the two of you already in there.”

“There are two laps. Take your pick.” Glorfindel patted his knee, but Erestor could not possibly see it beneath the bubbles.

“The water is high already. It will splash out, and sitting on someone’s lap while submerged is not as comfortable as--”

“Erestor. Shut up and get in the tub.”

Eyes were narrowed at Fingon, but Erestor set the stack of towels on a nearby chair. He brought one with him and draped it on the floor along one side of the tub in anticipation of spillage. “I am not cleaning up if this makes a mess.”

“No one asked you to. Get in.”

Erestor tried to join them as gracefully as possible, but avoiding limbs while climbing in was difficult. Water did splash out, and when Erestor settled on Glorfindel’s lap, he apparently only did so in order to give Fingon a smug ‘I told you so’ look.

Fingon gave Erestor a smug look in return. “Glorfindel?”

A few seconds later, Erestor’s arms were pinned behind his back. “Let go… I am not in the mood,” he protested, and squirmed to try to get out of Glorfindel’s grasp. 

“Shh… you are going to push all of your bubbles out of the tub and onto the floor.” Fingon altered his position once Erestor stopped trying to break free. “Now, let me try to remedy something…” he offered, now on his knees facing the other two. He grasped the edge of the tub with one hand to steady himself, and reached under the water with the other. “Does this… put you in a better mood…?” he asked.

Erestor’s muscles relaxed as Fingon touched him under the water. His vision faltered as Fingon became more aggressive, and finally Erestor surrendered. He leaned his head back against Glorfindel’s shoulder and closed his eyes. Lips brushed against his; it had to be Glorfindel, for Fingon was speaking. “Let me see if I can… loosen you up a little more.” 

As Glorfindel nibbled along Erestor’s ear, Fingon retrieved a smooth cake of soap with his free hand. He carefully sat down in the restricted space he had to work with, abandoning his former task for only a moment. When he reached beneath the bubbles again, one hand returned to caressing, while the other held the soap. He had to contort himself a bit to find his mark, but once he did, he wasted no time sliding it back and forth, teasing a spot Erestor made all the more accessible as he spread his legs until his knees were both pressed against the sides of the basin.

“I might be reading into this more than I should, but I think he likes this, Fin,” remarked Fingon. Erestor made a pleasured little noise, but words seemed to have escaped him for the moment. “Although… I can think of at least one thing he might like even more.”

Glorfindel relinquished his hold on Erestor’s arms only to take hold of his hips to adjust both of them slightly. He gritted his teeth as he tried to bring Erestor closer, and Erestor winced. “Sorry,” whispered Glorfindel as he kissed Erestor’s shoulder. “Got ahead of myself.”

“Here,” Fingon offered, holding the soap out to Glorfindel, but Glorfindel shook his head, hands occupied anyhow.

“That tends to burn. Let me find something else,” he decided, and he coaxed Erestor to stand up with him. “Here… could you…”

Fingon tossed the soap into the water and carefully stood up as well. Once on his feet, he put his hands around Erestor’s waist, and Erestor draped his arms over Fingon’s shoulders without needing direction to do so. “Hurry back,” Fingon insisted, sounding a bit uncertain as he was losing some control over the situation.

Erestor kept one hand behind Fingon’s neck, but used the other to search for something between them. “I think you need to relax a little more, too,” he insisted, his words a deep rumble, slightly slurred together.

“Oh… not fair,” warned Fingon as he felt what Erestor was referring to.

“The rules on this topic are really very loose,” countered Erestor. “In fact, we may as well burn the Laws and Customs.”

“Laws and Customs… is for amateurs…” Fingon silenced Erestor, kissing him hard. He wound one arm around Erestor’s waist to free his hand when Erestor fought to assert himself, and slid his now free hand against Erestor’s scalp, where he twisted his fingers into Erestor’s hair and pulled back to expose the smooth skin of his throat. 

“Not fair,” groaned Erestor, and though he tried in vain to grapple with Fingon in the same way, Fingon’s hair was too short and too slick from the water for him to get a grip upon it. He opted instead to traces the tips of his fingers around the edges of Fingon’s ears, which caused Fingon to whimper.

“Looks like I came back at the right time,” said Glorfindel, a bottle of oil in each hand.

“How much do you think you need?” joked Fingon as he loosened his grip on Erestor, but still kept his fingers in the dark mane.

“You never know, darling. I did not want to track water across the floor twice.”

“He has a point, Kano,” Erestor interjected.

“Indeed - and I believe he is going to make another point very soon.” Fingon pulled his hand back and ran his tongue up the length of Erestor’s throat. He kissed him again, forcing his tongue between Erestor’s lips to punctuate his words before he let go of Erestor’s hair. 

Glorfindel rejoined them in the tub. The bubbles were already dissipating, but some of what remained clung to his legs. He opened one of the bottles, discarded the cork onto the floor, and rubbed his free hand against Erestor’s lower back, which was nearly dry from the time spent standing out of the water. “Been a long time,” Glorfindel realized as he worked his fingers in, and Erestor groaned in agreement. 

“Here. Let me help,” offered Fingon, and he contorted himself so that he was able to tease and stretch Erestor as well. “We should…”

“Yes,” agreed Glorfindel, and he eased out so that he could lower himself into the tub again. Once he was situated, Fingon coaxed Erestor back into Gorfindel’s lap before lowering himself back onto his knees.

Erestor hesitated. His hands gripped the sides of the basin, and he waited to open his mouth until he was able to make eye contact with Fingon. Fingon reached out and took hold of Erestor’s chin, smiled, and leaned in to kiss him sweetly before Erestor could speak. “I enjoy seeing you this way,” whispered Fingon as he slid his hand to Erestor’s cheek. He caressed moist skin, fingers catching on tendrils of damp hair. “You need this. Both of you do,” he finally said.

“I need both of you,” insisted Erestor.

“Mmm… I know,” answered Fingon with a smile. He leaned in again to nip at Erestor’s ear. “I am not going anywhere,” he whispered as he moved his hand up and through Erestor’s hair, then back to his cheek. “You need release, and Fin knows your body better than I do.”

Erestor appeared ready to protest, but as if on cue, Glorfindel massaged the entrance to Erestor’s nether passage with his finger. Erestor gasped, back arched, head back, eyes closed -- and Fingon chuckled. Glorfindel leaned closer now, water sloshing over Erestor’s fingers, still gripping the edge of the tub. “Let me love you tonight,” he said, but Erestor’s hands remained firm on the basin.

“Every night,” corrected Fingon, and his fingertips ghosted over Erestor’s knuckles. “He wants to make love to you,” continued Fingon, his fingers tracing nonsensical patterns over Erestor’s wrists and forearms. “I want you to feel loved. He can fulfill the desires you have.” Fingon’s fingers danced their way up to Erestor’s biceps and shoulders, and already Erestor’s grip on the edge was loose. “He wants you. Do you want him?”

Erestor opened his eyes, and looked over his shoulder. Glorfindel bumped his nose against Erestor’s and quietly, looking at him through half-lidded eyes, said, “Only if you are ready.”

Slowly, Erestor widened the kneeling position he was in and angled himself in the water. HIs hands moved back to the edge of the basin, but it was for balance this time. Glorfindel lowered his knees so that his legs stretched out and his toes touched the other end of the tub, while Fingon moved to crouch and avoid the limbs of his lovers. Glorfindel waited until Erestor committed to the act by lowering his body to ease down onto Glorfindel’s erection. 

Only the tip was taken in at first. Erestor bowed his head with his eyes closed, and bit his lip to keep the moans in his throat. Muscles clenched, and Glorfindel let out a shaky breath, his fists clenched under the water. Fingon, whose own hands had reached Erestor’s neck, now lowered his beneath the water. “Why stop now, beautiful?” he crooned as he placed his hands firmly at Erestor’s hips and coaxed him the rest of the way down with little effort.

Erestor cried out, cheeks flushed, and Glorfindel gasped, his own hands grasping at Erestor’s waist, fingers threading together with Fingon’s. Glorfindel nuzzled at Erestor’s back, battling through the dark tresses, and kissed between his shoulder blades. “This feels so good,” he mumbled against familiar skin. “Just like the first time with you…”

One of Fingon’s hands was raised from the water, and he used two fingers to tilt Erestor’s head back up again. Erestor’s eyes fluttered open, and Fingon greeted him with, “You are both where you are meant to be,” he said. “And I love you.”

Erestor wrapped his arms around Fingon’s neck and closed his eyes again, as one after another, tears ran down his cheeks. Fingon returned his hand beneath the water, and soon had taken control of Erestor’s hips. He set the pace, slow and smooth, until teardrops no longer caused ripples in the water, the surface of which was no longer graced by a blanket of bubbles. Only then did Fingon increase the pace and force with which he lifted Erestor, or pushed him down once more, each time rewarded with a moan on the way down, and a gasp coming up. 

When they fell into a solid rhythm, Fingon added variations -- several quick movements, and then slow -- so slow that Erestor could count the seconds between, had he not been lost in the pure pleasure of having his body fully manipulated for his own carnal enjoyment. Glorfindel no longer needed to have his hands on Erestor’s hips, so they alternated between rubbing and stroking his lover’s thighs, and stimulating his sensitive nipples -- never squeezing or pulling, not enough for Erestor to reach his climax, only enough to tease him and harden the little pebbles of flesh before moving away.

Then, after a span of some time, far longer than expected, yet less than hoped for, Glorfindel’s body tensed, for he was not at all immune to this long-awaited love-making. He gritted his teeth, and without pause Fingon read the signal. He dug his fingers in and braced his knees, and his movements caused the water to surge up and over the edge of the basin all around them. To Erestor, it was as if Glorfindel was in a frenzy, with thrust after thrust piercing him deep in his core -- and yet, it was his body, not Glorfindel’s, which moved. He cried out, unmasked, unbridled, and clung to Fingon as waves of pleasure crashed into him, through him, surrounding, penetrating, until they receded, and he found himself dizzy with delight, kneeling yet cradled, held by both of them. Spasms of euphoria coursed through him at unexpected intervals, erupting from some unknown source within.

He was facing Fingon, and he felt, after the physical pleasure began to subside, that he should kiss him. Certainly he wanted to - but there was Glorfindel, and he wanted to kiss him, too, and really, who should be first? For all etiquette and protocol he knew, at no time had such delicate matters ever been covered. And so Erestor’s small sigh of relief was thankfully unheard by his companions as Fingon took initiative (as he oft did) and pressed Erestor between himself and Glorfindel so that he could passionately kiss the blond first.

“Someday, Eres,” said Fingon, only just as his lips parted from Glorfindel’s, “I will make love to you -- but I hope this suffices, for now.” Fingon looked directly at Glorfindel as he spoke, and added, “And, Fin, should you ever have the desire to,” and left it at that with a wolfish smile that caused Glorfindel to swallow whatever words he might have offered.

Erestor nodded in agreement, but found he was far too drained now to worry about who to kiss. When he leaned his head against Fingon’s shoulder, Fingon kissed behind his ear and said, “I think we should clean up, dry off, and go to bed cuddled in a big heap so that none of us known whose arm is around whom.”

In an efficient yet sloppy manner, towels were first used to dry off, and then were strategically placed on the floor to soak up the remaining water. The basin was left to be dealt with the next day, and with only Erestor’s hair long enough to merit braiding, they were in the bedroom quite quickly after the suggestion was made. Erestor was soon asleep, nestled between Fingon on his right and Glorfindel on his left.

“I am fast fading,” warned Fingon as Glorfindel held out a jar of cherries he had pilfered from the kitchen on the way up. Fingon took the fork from the jar and speared a few pieces of fruit, and held his other hand beneath in case any juice dripped. “There is something I wanted to tell you because I want to write back about it tomorrow.” He managed to transfer the cherries from the jar to his mouth without a single drop escaping, and plunged the fork back in before he rested back on his elbows and chewed thoughtfully.

“Is it something that affects me?”

Fingon bobbed his head side to side, then swallowed, and said, “All of us, really. I have been writing to Turgon about a number of things, and he wants to come and visit.” Fingon looked sidelong towards Glorfindel. “He wants to stay for several months.”

“Oh.” Glorfindel tried to lift a single cherry from the jar, but it slipped from the tines. He chased after with the fork and cornered another. “He does know about…” Fingon nodded as Glorfindel spoke. “And his thoughts are…?”

“There are members of the family who have raised objections -- some using the words ‘blasphemy’ and ‘polygamy’ in the same sentence. Others are unhappy because you and I are already related -- of course, they seem to forget that Maehdros and I were sort of more related.”

“I already know there are naysayers,” said Glorfindel. “I was never really close to the family like you are, though,” he reminded him.

“Be that as it may, it does not change the fact that your father and I are cousins. Full cousins -- because I have been reminded of that on several occasions by… well, it does nothing to name them,” Fingon decided. 

“And what is your brother’s stance?” Glorfindel cautiously asked.

“He has changed a lot over the years.” Fingon held out a hand, and immediately Glorfindel passed the jar of cherries back to him. “His words are vague at times, but I think he wants to come and apologize to Erestor for some things, and I think he just misses all of us. He was pretty fond of you, and as much grief as Erestor caused him, there were a lot of things that he admired about Erestor.” 

“Would you like him to visit?” asked Glorfindel as the cherries were placed back in his care.

“It would be nice. He has been trying to help me with something, and while his letters are informative, there is something to be said for talking face to face. I am just not sure how Erestor will react.” Fingon glanced down expectantly, and then softly laughed. “I really expected that he was going to answer that.”

“He is truly exhausted tonight.” Glorfindel set the jar of fruit aside and brushed aside an errant wisp of hair to better see Erestor’s face. “When I said it was like the first time -- it was. He was so tight.”

“Virginal,” suggested Fingon, and Glorfindel had the decency to blush as he nodded. “He was so tense, but so beautiful. I started to feel bad when he started crying, I almost stopped -- but then I realized, he was not sad or upset, just overwhelmed by the experience and how much love he was feeling. It felt good for you, though, right?” 

“It felt so good.” Glorfindel chewed his lip a moment before he continued. “He wants you in that way. Wants to… you know. He wants--”

“I know,” said Fingon, gently cutting Glorfindel off. He looked down at Erestor, and rubbed his thumb over his own lips. “This is all very complicated,” he finally said. “I mean-- easy in some ways, very easy to love him, and to love you… but…” Fingon ran his fingers through his cropped hair a few times. “My grandfather was persecuted because he was in love with two people at the same time. I feel safer out here on the island, but what happens if we travel back to the mainland? What if we go to Alqualonde - or Tirion, or Valimar? Will we be arrested, to put to trial, or made to choose? Or sent to Foremenos? These thoughts plague me, Fin. I know what he wants-- what he needs from me. But I need to make sure I can protect him. I have to make sure we will be safe-- all of us.” Fingon paused to collect his thoughts. “We have all had our share of heartache and loss. If we were forced apart, it would kill us. This is not just about lust, this is about survival. And love. Above all else, love.”

Glorfindel licked the fork, placed it aside, and put the lid back on the jar. “I guess it never occurred to me, all of those years that Erestor and I spent with Faelion, that someone would try to tell us no.”

“Things here on Tol Eressea are much different. I get the feeling a lot of the Maiar consider it out of their jurisdiction, and, there just needs to be a place for nonconformists to go. But I would like the option of going back someday -- just to visit, perhaps, but maybe to live there. You never know. Right now, though, I do not feel fully at ease here, and I will not take the chance at travel. Not right now. That thing Turgon is helping me with? It relates to all of this,” Fingon hastily explained. “I just do not want to say much because I hate to get anyone’s hopes up.”

“I think we should just tell Erestor that your brother is coming to visit,” said Glorfindel. “We need to tell him, because he hates surprises, but if we ask, he will ponder for a while, knowing him.”

“Do you think he will be upset?” 

“He is going to be upset if you keep talking and waking him up,” muttered a voice between them.

“I thought you said he was exhausted,” scolded Fingon.

Glorfindel shrugged, and Erestor pulled himself up into a seated position. “I am exhausted. I was promised cuddling, and all I have received are disruptions to my dreams, and not a single offer to share your snack.”

“We certainly would have if we knew you were still awake,” said Fingon while Glorfindel reopened the jar.

“The whole point is I was not awake -- not until--” Erestor stopped once Glorfindel lifted a forkful of cherries to his lips. “When is Turgon arriving?” he asked after he chewed and swallowed.

“I do not know. I need to write to him first.”

Erestor stretched, yawned, and accepted another mouthful of cherries before he waved Glorfindel off. “We will be busy with the coming term. Can he wait to visit until the summer recess, and then he can stay for the rest of the year?”

“You make a very good point,” commended Fingon.

“Of course I do. No one considered an idiot manages to become a chief advisor.” Erestor yawned again and settled back down. “And I recommend we adjourn this meeting and commence cuddling.”

“Sound advice,” agreed Glorfindel as he set the jar aside once more, and wrapped his arms around Erestor. 

“Wait for me!” Fingon blew out the candles and made sure he was good and snuggled in with them before he, too, fell asleep.


End file.
